Disguising Truths I've Sold
by TC Stark
Summary: She runs. He chases. She loves. He hates. She tries to leave. He pulls her back in. She tries to stay. He pushes her away. There is no life outside of addiction. Rated M for torture, excessive drugs use, blood, sex, language, near death experiences, and anything else that's mature. Loving yourself isn't easy. Joker/OC
1. Chapter 1

TC Stark: Alright, I must be crazy to be taking on three projects at once. But, I can't help it. I love writing and thinking up different story lines, so yea. I will say first and foremost that my Bane story and my Lawless story come first. This right now is an experiment. I have written every villain in the Nolan universe, except the Joker. I have always been afraid of writing him. He's so complex and hard to pin that I feel anything I write will not be accurate. This is my attempt to capture the Joker. Please let me know how you guys feel. I am looking to make this a dark story, so beware. Also, I clicked "romance", because of the sexual content, but this is in no way fluff. Anyway, let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own anyone in the DC universe. I own nothing except my OC and my ideas. Anything else I cannot take credit for. Nolan is a genius and Heath Ledger is a genius, they will take all the credit for creating the most memorable Joker ever. Also, the inspiration for the tital of this story comes from "No Excuses" by Alice in Chains.

Chapter One

Gotham was in a state of panic.

In a matter of forty-eight hours, everything seemed to have gotten worse. Harvey Dent, the city's shining White Knight; was slain by the man they all thought would protect them. The Batman. As quickly as he had proven himself to be a hero, he had showed his true colors. Just like every other lowly criminal, he was a killer. Threatened by the idea of having a bright figure take his place, the Caped Crusader made sure Gotham would never feel relief. They would never have another man like Dent and it was all the Batman's fault.

And probably more alarming, the Joker had escaped from Arkham. The people of Gotham were only able to breathe easily for a short period of time, before the news was discovered. Commissioner Gordon would have liked to keep this frightening fact a secret for a little longer, but somehow it had leaked out. Now the people of Gotham, who were already frightened from almost being blown up; were thrown back into chaos. The Joker was free.

Mayor Garcia had assured the citizens of Gotham that they were going to find the Joker. That everyone should calm down and go about their daily routines. Go back to work, school, and life. He was determined to not let the clown ruin his people anymore. They would not give in and play his little games.

But, the public knew better. The more they ignored the Joker, the grander his _games _became. The bigger the explosions. More would be at stake. Almost every boss, except those who worked at hospitals or the police force; sent their employees home. Even the buses wouldn't run all night, just late enough to make sure everyone was home.

The Joker didn't like that. Not one bit. The people of Gotham were such a bore. They were also insulting. How dare they think that he was that predictable. That if everyone was home that no harm would come to them. Oh, he would show them. Yes, yes. He would teach the people a lesson. He would make them realize the error of their ways.

It wasn't hard to escape from Arkham Asylum. Not hard at all. After all, they didn't have the means to hold someone like _him. _So unprepared. Insulting really. They should have prepared. Given him a grand entrance and a room worthy of him. Or at least a proper straight jacket. It was as if they hadn't put any thought in to it at all. Tsk tsk.

Tonight, he would show Gotham that as long as he was around, there would be no time to rest. Humming, the Joker waited patiently, with his hands held behind his back; for the local five bus to arrive. He waited behind three of his goons, each dressed, well...normally he supposed. It would be absolutely hilarious to see the look on the driver's face, as soon as he brushed by.

"Ah, here we are, boys." The Joker announced, as he rocked gently on the heels of his feet.

They all tensed up, as the bus rolled to a stop and the doors flew open. Was he the only professional out there? Groaning, he quickly pushed past and stepped up into the bus. The driver was instantly struck with shock and fear. As well as all the patrons on the bus. The Joker had been hoping for something a little more theatrical, but his _help _was a little flat on the delivery.

"_Good _evening, ladies and gentlemen," The Joker dramatically greeted, as his goons stepped into the bus and held a gun at the driver. Taking a look at his watch, he observed, "It's, ah, a little _early _for so many people to be on the bus. You all wouldn't happen to be..._scared _would you? All because of little ol' me?"

The innocence in his question sent chills down everyone's spine. He was so unpredictable. So frightening. His eyes searched around, as if demanding an answer. Those dark eyes of his. One passenger in particular, seemed to be frightened. He held his body close and shook in fear, knowing it was not going to end well.

As the Joker's eyes scanned around the bus, he noticed something that caught his attention. Almost every seat on the bus was filled. Most likely because of the panic that the news had sent Gotham into. Everyone was frightened and their attentions were completely fixed on him. Worried that if they made the slightest move, they would be killed.

But, in the back; there was someone who wasn't frightened. In fact, not awake at all. The Joker raised an eyebrow and began to move towards the back. Just as he thought; this passenger's arms were folded and her head was rested against the window. Almond, shadowed eyes closed and mouth slightly hung open in a deep sleep.

The entire bus turned silent, as they watched the Joker peer closer to creature that peaked his interest. Whoever this girl was, she was in her early twenties. Height; five feet seven inches. Bone structure was soft curved, but had strong shoulders. Not a lot of body fat, he would guess a size four. Probably a Narrows girl who didn't have much money to eat.

The heavy sleeper had a light blonde pixie hair cut, fair skin, and a few freckles on her cheeks. Cute. He wondered where she was coming from; wearing a black zip up hoodie with fur lining, tight black jeans, and buckle boots. His eyes shifted down and took a look at her hands. Short nails, no polish. No money to get a decent manicure. But, her face looked fresh and she obviously had enough money to buy new clothes and make up for her eyes. Not homeless.

Wanting this stranger to join the party, the Joker clapped his hands loudly in front of her face. When that wouldn't work, he retracted his hand before sending it flying towards her cheek. The smack was loud and caused the rest of the bus to shudder. They were all powerless as to what this maniac was going to do to the innocent girl.

The pain sent the girl flying forward; her eyes snapping open. Brown eyes. She gasped at the pain, though; quickly slammed her back against the window upon seeing who was in front of her. Eyes wide and mouth open, she held her cheek in shock. Grinning wildly, the Joker greeted, "Oh, well, ah, how good of you to, ah, _join _us."

"I-I...I was just sleep- I've had a long day at work." She desperately tried to explain. Oh, God, when did the Joker hijack the bus?

Cackling, the Joker reeled back and asked, "And, ah, what's your name, doll-face?"

The girl gulped, as she attempted to calm her nerves, "Da-Darya...Darya Orlov."

"Orlav?"

"My grandparents...my grandparents, they are from Russia." She stuttered, hoping her name wasn't enough to get her killed. She had no traces of an accent and it was obvious she had been born in Gotham.

The Joker mused over Darya for a while. All while the others waited nervously. She was absolutely terrified by him. Her body was glued to the window, as if somehow that would protect her from harm. In that moment, she was almost willing to say whatever would keep her alive. But, she wasn't lying. He _hated _liars.

Suddenly bursting out in a hysterical fit, his gloved hand lashed forward and grabbed a hold of her forearm. Yanking her forward, he beckoned, "Come, come, you and I have, ah, a lot to talk about."

Darya was easily pulled out of her seat, her feet stumbling slightly as she was pulled towards the front of the bus. She turned and looked around, pleading for anyone to help her. No one even looked her way. She supposed she understood. After all, who would be crazy enough to stand up to the Joker? No one could help her.

Keeping his grip firm, he instructed his goons to, "Kill them all," before removing Darya from the bus.

The screams of dying passengers filled her ears, even as the Joker shoved her into a nearby white van. There were two more goons in the car, the driver instantly turning on the engine and taking off. Her brown eyes turned and watched, out the window; as blood was sprayed all along the windows of the bus. Everyone dead. It was then she felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach, overwhelmed with the realization that she was alive and they were dead. Well, for how long would she be alive?

"Now, ah, Darya," The Joker leaned forward while licking the sides of his lips, "I need a, ah, favor from you."

With her heart sinking, the blonde turned around and choked, "Um, w-what do you need?"

There really was nothing creepier than the Joker's smile. It was the scars. If he had been just a man in clown make-up, it wouldn't have frightened her so much. But, those scars. His Glasgow smile was always there, a part of him until he died. And when he actually smiled, everything was exaggerated. It wasn't just the physical appearance of the scars, but the curiosity as to how he obtained them. There would always be a mystery and each scenario was frightening.

"I need you to...ah...lift up your shirt."

At this, her brown eyes widened and she gawked, "W-What?"

Tilting his head curiously, he spoke in a threatening manner, "Don't make me tell you twice."

It wasn't a very ideal situation to be in. Darya had no idea what the Joker would want with her shirt gone. Somehow she knew it wouldn't be anything sexual. It didn't seem to be his style. Besides, it wasn't frightening enough. As traumatic as it was, for anyone; the scarred man needed something absolutely terrifying. Dismemberment. Torture. Hanging. Something horrible that no normal human being would ever fathom of being possible. That anyone could even have those kind of thoughts. No, rape was below him.

Darya took an uneasy breath in, while undoing the zipper of her hoodie. Her hands shook as she tore the furry outer layer off and worked on yanking a white camisole off her torso. Her eyes looked worrisome, flicking up to watch the Joker. His eyes were fixed along her skin, observing the light toned muscle that rest atop her stomach. Saw the way her skin wrapped around her ribcage. And most of all saw the small Old School style Skull Tattoo with a top hat, on her right hip bone.

Joker's lip's curved upwards, as he observed, "Looks like, ah, you're experienced in the field of..._pain._"

Looking down, she touched upon her old tattoo. Gotten on her eighteenth birthday. She also had a Gothic cross inked on her inner right forearm. That was done a year ago. Four years after her original. Biting her lower lip, she explained, "I just liked the way they look. You have to deal with the pain, but in the end you have beautiful art on your body."

"Well, looks like I'll be adding to your nice collection."

Darya raised an eyebrow, as soon the Joker's hand lashed out and gripped onto her neck. With brute force, he threw the girl's body down and jumped on top of her. She went to scream, though; received a hard slap to the face. The pain stung deep, it was a hard slap. One that caused tears to form in the pools of her eyes.

Cackling, he flicked out a pocket knife before adjusting her hands so that he was kneeling on them. He needed to keep them still and out of the way. The Joker gleefully giggled as his left forearm pinned Darya's chest down. She was completely immobile. Vulnerable to whatever the clown's sick mind came up with.

And then Darya couldn't stop the cries that whined out of her lips. It had hurt getting inked, but it was comforting knowing that she was getting her artwork done by a professional. Someone with steady hands and a nice personality. It made the experience virtually fly by and in the end, she had beautiful pieces of art on her body.

That wasn't the case with the Joker. His main objection was to cause as much pain as possible. There was no precision to his movements. No concern for the girl below him. Whatever he was carving, it was going to leave a nasty scar. It was going to be ugly, just like his Glasgow smile. Darya would have a reminder of this day on her forever.

As the tip of the blade pierced through her skin, her eyes began to water. Her vision was beginning to fuzz, as she felt her blood seep down onto her stomach. The knife tore violently into her, splitting open skin. Whatever he was doing, he was putting all his weight into it. He wanted to make sure the blade pierced all the way through; not just touching the surface of the skin.

Crying, Darya bucked her hips involuntarily. The very action caused The Joker to growl. Cracking his jaw, he reached up and gripped her chin, "Now, just a minute. Almost done."

Darya didn't have time, she quickly passed out soon afterward.

* * *

The police station was a chaotic mess. Hadn't they been through enough? The force hadn't had to work as hard as they did ever before. When the Joker had been caught, they all had taken a sigh of relief. It seemed that it was over. Everyone could relax, because the maniacal clown was locked away. Men could go home to their wives and not worry about their safety being threatened.

Well, they had all been wrong. Now that the Joker was on the loose, everything was on overdrive. It was bad enough that the police station was still being repaired after the clown blew it up, but now they had to worry about the whole city being blown up. It really seemed like Gotham could not catch a break.

Jim Gordon was especially stressed. Everything seemed to be in vain. Not only did he lose Harvey Dent, but he also lost the Batman. The Commissioner had thought the new DA would be Gotham's White Knight. That with him leading the way, Gotham could return to a time once forgotten. Instead, the Joker had corrupted him and made him a villain. As if that weren't bad enough, he also had to lose the Dark Knight. It was sickening that in order to preserve the reputation of a man who almost killed his son, he had to ruin the reputation of the only man who seemed to have Gotham's best interest at heart.

As grim as everything looked, Gordon was determined not to give up. He was stressed. There was no doubt about that. But, he would not allow Dent's death and the Batman's sacrifice be in vain. The Joker, or any foe in the future; would not be allowed to win. So long as he was the Commissioner, he would not lay down and accept defeat.

"Commissioner Gordon."

A young officer sprinted into the older man's office, looking pale as ever. Lifting his head, the older man asked, "What is it, son?"

"You need to come out here."

Nodding, Gordon jumped up and quickly ran out to the main area. He wasn't prepared for what was waiting for him. Barely standing was a young blonde girl. Bloodied and barely awake. Jim sprinted forward, catching the girl just before she collapsed, "It's okay, it's okay. What happened?"

Coughing up blood, Darya croaked, "The Joker...The Joker."

"Damn," Jim cursed under his breath, before shouting behind him, "I need a medic!"

All the officers scrambled around, some running to the phones to phone in an ambulance. Jim slowly eased the girl to the ground, not caring if he got blood all over himself. He needed to keep her awake, "What's your name?"

"D-Darya...Darya Orlov."

"How old are you, Darya?" He asked, while gently cupping her cheek.

Painfully coughing, the blonde winced, "Twenty-three."

Jim nodded, while reassuring, "Just hang in there, Darya. Help will be here soon."

"Jim," Darya reached up and grasped onto the older man's hand, "L-Lift up my shirt."

Jim raised an eyebrow. In the chaos of the moment, he wondered if she even realized what she was saying. As he looked into her eyes, he saw her pleading. As if not to let whatever happened to her be in vain. Nodding, he gently let go of her head and began to lift the bloodied shirt up. The material was quickly drying and he frowned as the newly formed scabs, which were dried onto the inside of her shirt; were pulled off. Reopening her wounds.

Frowning, he saw what The Joker wanted him to see. Cut straight across and right under the base of her bra, he had carved:

_Gotham is Mine – Mr. J_


	2. Chapter 2

TC Stark: Well, hello lovelies! I'm so happy that this story has been picked up! Thank you for all going on this journey along with me. Sadly, the Joker was not in this chapter. I just wanted to take this to sort of introduce the aspects of my character a little. Do not worry, he will return in chapter three! Okay, let's answer to some reviews! Line Sagittaurius- While Michelle Whilliams is very beautiful (and had the fortune of being with Heath Ledger), I would not view her as Darya. She's too sweet lol I also don't know who I would have in mind, I have a million different ideas lol I have like Pauley Perrette, Anne Hathaway, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Swedish or American in mind lol I'm too confused, so I just go on how I described her. No actress has really come to mind lol Alley1328- Right!? Lol I have had that idea in minds for like...a really long time lol Supernovart- I love Clara Bow! Tisiphone- lol I love you! Thank you for your advice, I am definitely going to try and slow it down. All criticisms are welcomed do to my inexperience in the Joker's world =) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Darya and my ideas!

Chapter Two

A most peculiar thing had occurred. Two weeks had passed and for some reason the Joker hadn't made another attack on Gotham. Every day that passed sent the people more and more on edge. What was he planning? Why hadn't he attacked yet? Why wasn't the police force doing something? And most importantly, should they get on with their lives?

Darya had decided to move on with her life. Spending nine days in the hospital had not been a trip to a beach resort. There had been moments in the beginning when the doctors weren't sure if she was even going to live. By the time the Joker had dropped her off at the police station, she had lost a lot of blood. And if it weren't for Jim Gordon applying pressure to the wound, then she surely would have bled to death.

The only good thing about staying at a hospital, was the lovely medication the doctors had put her on. For the first week she had a wonderful stream of morphine flowing through her veins. Every time her body began to hurt, she made sure to press the button even if at times it made her head fuzzy. It was better to just forget.

And when Darya had left the hospital, the doctor had given him a supply and refill script for Oxycontin. Something she made sure to take regularly. Two weeks later, she was still sore. But, luckily the swelling had gone down. The Joker had wanted something that would stay on her body forever. And it certainly would. The jagged skin had been stitched together by a laser that would eventually disappear, so she wouldn't have to go back to get thread taken out. But, ugly red scars would remain with her forever. A constant reminder of her run-in with the clown prince.

It was turning close to nine at night. She would need to catch her bus soon if she wanted to make it to work on time. The bus. Darya gave a small scoff, to herself; while pulling a white tank top on. It seemed foolish to hop back on the very vehicle she was yanked from. She always road the same bus at the same time. It would be very easy for the Joker to find her again and perhaps finish the job.

But, than again cabs were too expensive and she was no way close to ever buying a car. No, she was forced to be thrown back to the very form of transportation that had led to meeting the Joker. But, it would have been irrational to think that every time she stepped on a bus that bad things would happen to her. No, she needed to move on with her life and think rationally.

Pouring a glob of mousse in her left hand, Darya rubbed her palms together before moving the product through the top of her hair. Smoothing down the sides of her scalp, she flipped up the front, which was the longest part. The routine was just that. A mindless activity that was done almost involuntarily; her mind numb to the actions she was doing.

Pain was setting in again. Each time she took a breath, the skin around her scars stretch and she felt gut wrenching pain. It was awful being so vulnerable. That wasn't a good way to be in Gotham city. Even before clowned princes ran around the streets, there were always wild criminals that were willing to do anything to get a kick.

Darya slipped a pair of form fitting black skinny jeans on, before almost doubling over in pain. That damn Joker. There was no doubt that she had been scared half to death by her encounter with the scarred man. There was no reason not to be absolutely terrified. The madman was just that. _Insane. Crazy. _And extremely unpredictable. How could she not be scared?

But, right now she was in pain and the natural reaction was to be angered by the person who had caused that pain. How the hell was she supposed to work why in agony? Scarred or not, she needed to take money. Her job wasn't a guarantee and if she couldn't make it, than her boss would surely replace her. Bad enough she needed to take two weeks off by of the _flu._

* * *

After taking an Oxycontin, Darya pulled on a pair of buckled boots before running for the bus. Luckily, it wasn't stopped by any clowned prince. Two weeks had passed by and Gotham was slowly returning to its daily routine. People went back to window shopping, back to spending money. Back to loving anything superficial that the Joker absolutely hated.

And that meant that Darya needed to go back to world. People wanted to spend ridiculous amounts of money on buying sweets. On buying cookies and cakes that were overpriced simply because they were made in the upper class part of Gotham. Of course someone like her would never fit in that kind of environment. She would be shunned. But, those with money had no problem employing people like her to work the over night shift. The shift where they were unseen by the rest of population and had to do all the prep work.

The bakery Darya worked in was already _closed, _when she arrived at work. The girls who were fortunate enough to work with the people, who had the look; were waiting for the blonde to arrive. This way they could let her in and they could leave to go home. So they could enjoy their nights. They wouldn't have to worry about who made the dough and who decorated the cookies, for it would all be done while they slept.

"Hey, Darya," One of the girls greeted, "Feeling any better?"

She gave them a small smile, "Yea. Sorry, how was it without me?"

"Not bad. Daryl took your shifts, but I don't think he liked it very much."

"Well, I didn't want to get anyone sick," Darya yawned. Oxycontin may have helped her pain, but it was making her a little lethargic. Removing her hoodie, she excused herself, "Hey, mind if I use the bathroom before you guys leave?"

"Go ahead."

Darya nodded, while excusing herself to the bathroom. The nice thing about working overnights was that she had freedom of doing what she pleased. The girls during the day had uniforms to wear. Pink shirts, black slacks, and a white apron. They worked in an upper class area where they needed to look very put together. She fortunately could wear whatever she pleased and play music to pass the time.

Making sure the door was closed and locked, Darya reached deep within the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a very tiny bag. In that bag was a white substance. Something she took regularly in order to keep herself awake. It could also be attributed to the fact that she was so thin. She had enough money to eat, but when someone was on cocaine they really didn't feel like eating.

Trying her best to make a straight line with the powder, she sloppily cupped the substance and bowed her face down. She didn't have a straw or even a dollar bill to roll up. So, with her best effort, she snorted in the powder and had to press her nose a little too close to the sink. A lot closer than she had wanted to.

As the cocaine flew up her nostrils, she jerked her head back and paused for a moment. Gripping her nose, she closed her eyes and let the drug settle in. It was a bad habit, but after working overnights at the same bakery for a year, she found it to be the only way she was able to get through the day. It could have been worse.

Finally shaking her head, she cleaned any excess cocaine off the sink before tucking the bag back into her pocket. Looking into the mirror, Darya forced a smile as she turned around and exited the bathroom. Two girls waited patiently, as the blonde smiled, "Alright, girls, you're free to go."

* * *

Jim Gordon had been worried about Darya for the entire two weeks. Due to the police station being in shambles, he hadn't been able to visit her. The Joker hadn't made an attack, but that didn't mean anyone rested easy. He was still out there and that was all that mattered. The Joker would hide out forever and if he did, it would only be to keep the people on edge. Let them live every day in fear.

But, he thought it was important to check up on the young girl. It had to have been traumatizing for anyone to have any kind of encounter with the Joker. Let alone one that left someone marred forever. He couldn't imagine how the young girl was coping with that kind of tragedy. For each day for the rest of her life, she would look down and see the message the Joker intended for the rest of the world to read.

"Commissioner, Ms. Orlov is here." A young officer let him know.

Jim nodded. He had sent another office to pick Darya up from the address she had left him. It was his understanding that she lived on her own, in a one bedroom on the boarder of the Narrows and mid-town. The neighborhood wasn't as terrible as it was deeper in the Narrows, but because of it's location the cost was cheaper than if she lived in a better area.

The older man wasn't sure if she had parents or not. He wasn't sure if they were dead or alive. Wherever they were, they weren't in her life. Or at least available for her. She lived alone and upon leaving the hospital, had gone back to living in her one apartment. Jim figured if she had a close relationship with her parents than she would go live with them after such a traumatic experience. But, it was his understanding that she had even gone back to work.

It was one of the things he admired about Gotham. Its undying ability to pick back up and continue on with their day. The city had always been known about it's crimes. Even those who weren't from the island knew its statistics. It took a certain kind of person to live there. The cold hard truth was, if the people weren't able to pick up and move on, they were as good as dead.

Soon, the younger officer returned with Darya. She looked in much better spirits than the first time she met. It was his understanding that she had worked an overnight shift and yet, she looked quite upbeat. Jim smiled as they shook hands and both sat down afterwords. Her eyes were looking all over the office, gazing over the various photos he had of his family.

"Cute kids." Darya casually pointed out, while crossing her legs and tucking her hands in her pockets.

"Thank you," Jim smiled and nodded, "Thank you for coming in. I know you worked a long shift last night."

She shrugged, "I don't mind. I wasn't very tired."

Shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat, the older man tried his best to maintain small talk before shifting to more pressing manners, "What do you do at work?"

"Make dough...prepare batter...ice the cookies...every once in a while I actually ice a cake if it's for early enough in the morning." Darya gave a wry smile.

"Had you always wanted to be a baker?"

It was then that her smile shifted into more of an uncomfortable smile and he could see her body tense. Pursing her lips together, she simply replied, "No."

Jim could see how uncomfortable she was with the question. How unwilling she was to press on. Not wanting to make her feel uneasy, he moved on, "Ms. Orlov, I just wanted to call you in to see how you were doing."

"I'm just fine."

"I mean...how are you recovering?"

Darya couldn't blame the older man for the question. He reminded her of her grandfather. Extremely caring. Perhaps a little too much. She was just another statistic in Gotham. Dozens of women were attacked each year. A lot were marred for the rest of their lives. Some were raped. And some were even killed. The fact that it was by the hands of the Joker was the only reason she stood out. Or maybe he really was one of those men who just cared too much?

Either way she shrugged and tried to keep it simpler, "Doctor says it'll scar...I could get a tattoo maybe," Sighing, she scratched at her head uneasily, "But, I'll always know it's there."

"We haven't received anything to indicate that he...is seeking you out."

Darya gave a small laugh, "I was only supposed to deliver a message."

"We can always get security to guard your apartment." Jim offered.

Shaking her head, she refused, "No. That would just...I don't know, I wouldn't feel comfortable with that. Thank you though."

"Well, the offer will stand."

Darya smiled. She did like Jim Gordon. But, there really wasn't any need for security guards. If the Joker really wanted to go after her, than he would have. Placing cops in front of her doors or outside her apartment would just be child's play for scarred man. And she wouldn't really like sending young men to their deaths just for her sake.

The air then became awkward between them. Jim already saw that small talk wouldn't work and she had already refused his help. She seemed like a very polite young lady, but not willing to really reveal much about herself. She was quite closed off. He expected...different. Anyone who had experienced the Joker would have been left crying and completely broken. Her defense mechanism seemed to be to forget the whole thing had even happened.

Amidst his thoughts, Jim began to notice something about Darya. She sat there calmly, with her hands tucked away in her pocket. Not fazed at all. He had seen how hurt she was that night. She had to be affected by the situation. She must have been in some kind of denial. Or perhaps she just didn't want to break down in front of him.

As she sat ever so calmly, he noticed a small trail of blood seep out of her left nostril. It dropped down ever so slowly, which was why she probably didn't notice. Frowning, Jim politely pointed out, "Um, Darya, your nose."

"Wha?" She raised an eyebrow, while reaching up.

Upon touching her nostril and feeling the liquid, she gasped. She retracted her fingers and saw the blood that painted them. Extremely embarrassed, she covered her mouth completely and apologized with wide eyes, "Oh, _shit. _I'm so sorry."

Jim quickly handed the younger girl a box of tissues. She quickly grabbed one and tilted her head back, before pressing the soft tissues up against her nostrils. She pinched her nose together and kept her neck craned back for a moment. When she was finally convinced, or hoped; that the bleeding had stopped, she moved her head forward and quickly balled the tissue up in the palm of her hand.

"Jim, I'm so sorry." She looked at him almost worrisome.

"Please, don't be," He was worried as well, "Has that been happening after the attack?"

Pushing the tissues up against her nostrils, for good measure; she shook her head, "This happens every once and a while...has been for a few years."

Jim's eyebrows furrowed together, as she wiped away any excess blood. She didn't seem shocked at all by the sight of her own blood. Her reaction was simply based on that fact that she had bled in front of him. That she had bleed in front of _someone. _He needed to look at her a bit worried now, wondering why someone would think so casually about having constant nosebleeds.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Have you seen a doctor about this?"

Darya's Hazel eyes flicked up at him, pulling back her hand and giving him a weak smile, "They're just nosebleeds. Nothing to worry about."

Jim slowly nodded, while shifting uncomfortably in his chair, "Well...Ms. Orlov, please let me know if you need any help at all."

"Thank you for being so kind." She smiled, while standing up and shaking his hand.

* * *

Darya couldn't have left that police station any faster. She felt completely mortified. She couldn't believe she had actually bled in front of Jim Gordon. It was completely embarrassing. And the way he had looked at her. She knew he would ponder what was wrong with her and wonder why she had pushed the concern aside. Hopefully, he would just think it was because she didn't want to admit what was wrong with her and she wasn't doing anything harmful to herself.

Groaning, she took out a pack of cigarettes and placed one in between her lips. While holding a flame in front of the tobacco filled, she cursed angrily, "Fuck."


	3. Chapter 3

TC Stark: Hey! So, I am so excited that people are liking this story! I'm so nervous! Lol I will admit, I struggled a bit with this one. Like how to capture the Joker's personality. But, please enjoy. I will be working on my Lawless story next and am hoping to have a sequel for _The One You Feed _in about another week. But, I have plenty of ideas for this one so please stay tuned! Tisiphone- Shamaya definitely has the _I don't give a fuck _attitude. I wouldn't say face wise for Darya, but perhaps a frailer version of the body. Did you know I believe she is the only real outspoken lesbian in heavy metal? Fun fact =) Also, she had one of the most compelling spoken word performances I have ever seen! Enjoy ever! And thank you!

Disclaimer: I only own Darya and my ideas.

Chapter Three

Darya woke up in stabbing pain. While tossing and turning throughout the night, her sleeping body must have unconsciously scratched at the area where her scars were. Harshly, considering when she woke up the wound had opened and there were blood on her fingers. The instant her nails had tore at the skin, she woke up. Her wounds had almost been healed, no swelling. But, the scabs weren't ready to come off just yet.

Cursing, she instantly jumped up and grabbed a wash cloth and ran it under water. Snarling, she pressed the wet cloth against her skin and instantly sneered. The Joker had done a good job. He had gone deep and even when she had thought her wounds had healed, they hadn't. He wanted her to go through the pain, just like how he did when he received his own beauty marks.

Letting out a hard breath, she slowly pulled the cloth away and stared at the blood smeared on the material. Darya frowned, while holding it under the running water. Some areas were worse than others. Some were red and scarred already. And others, like the area she had just damaged; were going to take longer to heal.

As much as she had expected this, she still didn't like dealing much with the pain. She wanted it gone and fast. Groaning, Darya left the cloth in the sink and turned off the faucet, before leaving the bathroom. She grabbed at the bottle of Oxycontin and placed one of the pills on the counter. Grabbing a nearby bottle of bourbon, she smashed the pill with the bottom of the bottle and scooped it up in her hand. Once her tongue lashed out at the powder, she took a large gulp of the alcohol.

Darya let out a harsh cough. She wasn't able to handle drugs the way she used to. Holding her stomach, the blonde groaned and plopped down on a nearby chair. She needed to work that night shift and she was up early. She knew herself. She would never be able to go back to bed, so she was going to have a really long day.

Lighting up a cigarette, she slouched back in the chair and rubbed her eyes. Was this going to be the rest of her life? Trapped by the memory of her night with the Joker? Plagued by images of his Glasgow smile? It wouldn't be much of a life at all and she thought she'd surely go insane from such a mundane lifestyle.

Swiveling around casually, Darya took another swig of her bourbon before turning on the television. It was six in the morning and the only real programming that was on was the news. It didn't hurt to be knowledgeable about things that went on in Gotham city. She wasn't blind. She liked to be a part of the _loop. _

Darya switched onto the news, as the latest story was in: _In today's news; are the prisons making criminals worse? Dr. Jonathan Crane, who used to be the head psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum has been locked away in Blackgate for a little over a year. We have just received news of his latest attack on a fellow prisoners. Sources say that the former psychologist actually _bit _another man's nose off. Coming from a man who was known was being composed, this is certainly strange. A new study has come out-_

That was when Darya stopped listening. Everyone seemed to be going crazy lately. Even the well dressed and rather cold Dr. Crane. She pursed her lips together and took another swig. With all the crazy behavior the Scarecrow was exuding, he would probably be moved to Arkham Asylum. He was a sick man and couldn't be treated properly at Blackgate. Sighing, she asked herself; why did she care?

* * *

Just as expected, Darya hadn't been able to get any sleep throughout the day. It was just a boring day of watching TV and doing nothing in particular. If her life hadn't revolved around work and sleep, perhaps she would have been able to make time for friends and keep her mind occupied. But, that wasn't the case. With her lifestyle and what had happened to her recently, she was her own best friend. And lately, she wasn't really getting along with herself.

But, as soon as nine rolled around, Darya made her way through the door. She didn't want to keep the girls waiting. Besides, she didn't have anything else to do. It was pretty pathetic to say the least that at her age that her life consisted of work and sleep. But, that was what happened when someone lived a less than privileged life.

Her eyes were dry. Very dry. She sat outside with a cigarette hanging from her fingertips. She may have arrived early and relieved the other girls, but she wasn't quite ready to work yet. She felt extremely lethargic. It was becoming difficult to keep her eyes opened. She supposed a day of drinking bourbon would eventually cause her to crash.

There was a cake that needed to be iced. Luckily, one of the bakers had gone through the trouble of assembling the wedding cake. All she needed to do was ice and decorate it. It was quite tall. Five tiers to be exact. Darya would have to really take her time in order to make sure it came out nicely. After all, she didn't want to ruin some bride's big day.

Taking another drag of her cigarette, she flicked the object away and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"_Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut?  
Jesus Christ, deny your maker  
He who tries, will be wasted  
Feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut ?"_ - _Man in the Box, _Alice in Chains

The advantage of working alone and at night, was the fact that Darya could listen to music and no one would bother her. No customers, no fellow workers. Just her and her cake. It helped her concentrate. There was no bag of cocaine to help her stay awake, so instead she opted to blast her Grunge Metal station on Pandora.

With music playing, she felt that she was slowly returning back to herself. Before she had been attacked by the Joker. She felt...normal. It was typical of her to spend her nights at work with loud music coursing through her veins. For the beat of drums and guitar to blare against her eardrums and vibrate her very soul. It made her feel alive.

While icing the third tier, Darya sung along, "_I'm the dog who gets beat. Shove my nose in shit! Won't you come and save me?" _

With music playing, she felt it much easier to do her job. The power of the melody surged all throughout her body and helped her fight off fatigue. A swipe here and swipe there and icing the cake felt like second nature. When she had first started working at the bakery, she had been a bit nervous. She didn't want to mess anything up. She took longer than she was supposed to and messed up frequently. Now, it came as second nature.

And then the music stopped. The suddenness of the action made Darya jump, as she turned around. Her Alice in Chains was replaced by the haunting laughter of none other than Gotham's clowned prince. Standing in all his _glory. _His bleached green hair greased to the side, his suit a little larger than his actual frame. And his smile. That never fading smiling.

Instantly, her eyes went wide as the Joker slowly made his way through the kitchen, "Ha-ho-ho-hee-hee. I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

The Joker's presence was definitely enough to wake Darya up. It was hard not to give all the attention to the Joker. Everything about him commanded it. Her eyes were wide and focused entirely on him. His maniacal twinkle in his eyes. The sinister smirk on his lips. The smell of gasoline and cigarettes that radiated off him.

Holding his hands behind his back, the clown licked the sides of his lips while asking, "What's wrong, Darya? Couldn't, ah, leave the cakes alone?"

Darya's heart pounded out of her chest. Her eyes were fixed on him. The Joker simply stared at her. Waiting. Calm. Still gripping onto the icing spatula, she breathed heavily through her nostrils. It was a nightmare. Had he really been following her? Keeping an eye on her? How else would he have been able to find out where she worked? Shit, did he know where she lived?

Gulping, Darya calmly answered, "I need the money. I couldn't afford to stay out of work very long."

Darya watched as the Joker took a look around. His dark eyes roamed all around the kitchen, eying every little detail. Every tool. Every knife. Every baked good she had worked on. When his eyes finally came to hers, he was only a few feet away from her, "You, ah, don't look good. You should get some sleep."

"That's hard to do when you work nights," She murmured a bit bitterly, before adding, "Gordon got your message."

"Oh, yes, yes _I know. _You did well."

Darya shuddered. His laugh was just so daunting. Holding her stomach, she let out a steady breath and dared to ask, "Why are you here?"

She feared asking the question. It was bold to say the least. But, the air between them was so incredibly uncomfortable and she had been drinking. Darya stood stiff in fear as the Joker suddenly burst out in uncontrollable laugh. It was so loud. So loud that she felt that anyone walking by could hear him. There was no mistaking his laugh.

And then his hand reached out and gripped her chin. Darya instantly tensed up. The smell of cracked leather ran through her nostrils and as he closed in, she also smelt the greasepaint on his face. As she gazed over his face, she noticed that his makeup looked a little more together than it usually did. He must have just applied the face paint, since it wasn't smeared at all.

Darya's body tensed, as the Joker's leaned closer into hers. Closing her eyes, she attempted to steady her breath as the scarred man's nose buried itself in her blonde hair. She shuddered, as he breathed in a large breath. Pulling back, he noted huskily, "You smell like oranges."

Upon hearing this, her eyes shifted nervously up at him as she tried her best to keep the conversation light, "Shampoo."

"You're not very, ah, _talkative_, are you?" The scarred man raised an eyebrow, as he moved her chin around slightly, "Usually drinkers don't shut up."

_Drinkers. _Darya hated hearing that. Pushing her lips together, she jerked out of his grip and spoke defiantly, "I'm _not _a drinker."

"Oh, you can't lie to me, Darya, I, ah, see it in your eyes," Turning her face from side to side, he mused, "_Or _maybe, it's something else."

She could hear the seriousness in his voice. She could see the darkness in his eyes. It may not have been the best idea to lie to him. But, truth was she hated saying that she was a drinker. It was an activity she partook in every once in a while. What else was she supposed to do when she spent the nights she didn't work all alone? It was her sole entertainment really.

Luckily, the Joker decided to drop the subject. And most importantly, walk away from her. She was happy that he seemed to have lost interest in her. Rather, he began circling around the cake she was half-way finished with. Darya stood on edge, not sure what to do. There were plenty of knives around, she could have easily used one. No. That was just stupid.

With her eyes glued on the Joker, he reached over and easily pulled the spatula out of her hand. She had been so frozen, she hadn't even the strength to resist. Rather, she was fixed on his movements. Nervous to see if he would make anymore marks on her body. There were so many tools, so many tools to mare her body with.

The Joker began to glide the spatula along the smooth icing, not ruining it. That was the last thing she needed. Holding her breath, Darya watched as he held the tool up to his face, observing the icing on the tip. Tilting his chin up, he pondered, "Not very..._exciting, _is this, hm?"

He was scrutinizing her. Judging her. She didn't appreciate it. Against her better judgment, Darya countered, "It's an honest living."

"Oh, am I not _hones-t, _Darya?" The Joker's face turned towards the younger woman. He raised an eyebrow, while moving forward and pointing towards her with the spatula, "You know, I, ah, I don't think _you're _a very honest person. Not honest at all," Now he was so close she could practically feel him breath, "Did you go to school, Darya?"

Raising her eyebrow, she was taken back by the sudden change of topic, "Yes."

"For cakes?"

There was that mocking tone again. Darya frowned, while replying, "I went for general studies."

A chuckle rumbled out of his throat. A large smile curved on his lips. Darya shuddered, not able to fully look him in the eye. The Joker gripped her chin once again and forced her to look up at him, "I _know _you're lying," He rolled the words so easily off his tongue, "Do you like to play games, Darya?"

"Not really."

The Joker let out a cackle, his fingers pressing further into her skin, "Oh, _I _do. I, ah, _love _games. You and I are going to have a _lot_ of fun."

Darya shuddered at the thought of what the Joker considered fun. Gripping onto her even tighter, he cooed, "I'll find out your secret."

"I don't have a secret," Her eyes flicked up and she stated, "There's nothing beneath the surface."

"You're _lying _again," Shaking his head, The Joker waved the spatula at her and let out a _tsk tsk, "_That's not...very attractive."

Before Darya was able to say anything, the Joker swung. The spatula came into contact with her cheek. Letting out a gasp, her hand flew up to her cheek and held onto the stinging skin. Looking up at the scarred man, she stood still. Perhaps she had been getting a bit too bold with him. She needed to remember who she was talking to.

Darya's panic set in, as the Joker reached out and gripped onto her wrist tightly. He violently pulled her forward. She let out a cry at the pain of his grip. It felt as if her hand was going to pop off. Worried, she looked up at him. He was laughing. Like he always was. Amused by the pain he inflicted on others. Amused by the fear he saw in his victims' eyes.

"You, ah, you look worried, Darya," The Joker observed, his face twisting into fake innocence, "Are you _scared_?"

Wincing, she begged, "Let go of me, please."

The Joker let out another cackle, as he brought her closer. Pulling her wrist closer, he twisted it in a painful angle. Darya watched, fearful of what he was going to do. Her gaze was fixed on his other hand, which reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a switchblade. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away and tried not to think about what he was going to do with her next.

Struggling a bit, the scarred man managed to open the girl's hand. Palm facing up, he grinned while dragging the tip of the blade along one of the lines. Darya let out a painful cry, as he dug in deep. Blood instantly began seeping out, covering both her hand and his glove. He didn't mind. He loved the irony smell of blood and leather.

After he was done, the Joker snapped the blade shut and tucked it back into his pocket. Then, while keeping his grip on her hand tight; he dipped his thumb into the open wound. Darya gritted her teeth, the pain stinging. She tried desperately to pull her hand from his, but it was to no avail. She was stuck, with nowhere to go.

The Joker pulled his thumb from her wound, before smearing the blood alongside her light skinned cheek. She hated the feel of her own blood. Hated the smell. His dirty glove dipped again into her blood, before running along her blonde hair. Darya jerked back, shaking her head away from his grip. Even though he had already gotten the crimson liquid in her hair.

"Now, now," The Joker cooed, forcing her chin to stay still, "All this, ah, moving around isn't going to help. Darya, Darya, don't you lie to me again. It isn't going to get you anything, but, ah, trouble."

Darya tried her best to fight against the Joker, but his grip was just too tight. She hadn't the strength to stop him from holding her hands above the cake she had been working on and letting the blood seep down onto the white icing. There was no mistaking it. Instantly the icing turned a crimson red and she knew that it was contaminated. She would have to redo the whole thing, even bake an entirely new cake.

Once he was satisfied that there was enough blood on the cake, the Joker let go of the blonde girl's hand. Darya quickly retracted her arm, to hold her now sore wrist. She sneered and looked back at him, "I'm going to have to redo that whole thing!"

"Do you?" He tilted his head, "_Or _you can just leave. Why should, ah, the customers get to waste their money on something unnecessary, while you, ah," The Joker then jabbed his index finger deep into her stomach, while finishing, "_starve?_"

Darya winced, while glaring up at him. Chuckling, the Joker patted her cheek before turning on his heel and heading out the door. Just as quick as he had come, he had left. She didn't think he had been in the bakery for more than twenty minutes and in that little amount of time, he had caused so much chaos. Her hand was split open and bleeding. Her hair was smeared with blood. And she would have to work twice as hard thanks to him.

Running over to the sink, she turned on the faucet and ran her hand under the ice cold water. As pain shuddered throughout her body, she gritted her teeth, "Bastard."


	4. Chapter 4

TC Stark: Hello, my freaky little darlings! Thank you all who are reviewing this story and following it. I'm so glad I'm doing fair with writing the Joker. I am very excited to keep writing this and I hope you are all along for the ride! PoisonousAngel- I'm so sorry! Lol I love how everyone liked the cake scene heehee! I just thought it would add a little normality to their sick and twisted world. And thank you Auriellis! Lol Thank you everyone!

Disclaimer: I only own Darya and my ideas!

Chapter Four

Darya had tried to stop the bleeding. She really had tried to stop the bleeding. But, the cut was too deep. Too long. Eventually, after trying, she wrapped a towel around the hand and made her way to the hospital. The cab driver hadn't been too happy about having someone bleed all over his car. He also hadn't been happy when she hadn't any money to tip him. She took buses, not cabs. She felt bad, but she was bleeding too much.

Her boss had been furious, when she called and said she had _cut herself. _She had locked the door, but left all the lights on. He was also angry when he had to go in and redo the cake himself. He was angry when he saw how bloodied the cake was. He called her careless. Said he wouldn't be able to do as good of a job. The bride would be angry. It would cost them business. Perhaps her job. She should have just stayed.

But, the doctor had told her she had done the right thing. She needed stitches. She would be out of commission. Just another reason for her to be out of work. Her boss wasn't happy and he was adamant that she not place blame on his business. He didn't want to get sued. Darya couldn't tell him that the reason for all of it, was the Joker.

Darya stared angrily at her stitched up hand. Day three of no work. She hated it. No money was coming in and her rent was due. As much as the Joker frightened her, she was also becoming irritated by him. He was costing her money and soon, she was afraid she'd have nowhere to live. It was bad enough she had to call and beg her cell phone company to keep her phone turned on.

The phone began to ring. Speaking of. Darya turned her head around and saw a familiar name on the screen. Sighing, she reached over and picked up the phone call she usually dreaded, "Hello?"

"Darya, hi. It's Bran Noonan."

Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Hi, Bran. How are you?"

"Just fine," He sounded short, "Listen, Darya, my secretary was going through the bills the other day and I didn't realize, it's been a year since we've received payment from you."

Shit. Darya closed her eyes and sighed, "I...I thought I had paid off all my fees."

Bran sighed as well. They both knew she was lying, "Come on, Darya, I know the case didn't go to court, but my staff and I worked really hard on your suit. We put a lot of time and effort into your case, when we should have been concentrating on other cases. I knew it was a dead case, but I felt bad for you. I didn't think you would disrespect me like this."

"It's not disrespect. I haven't the money, Bran. I barely make enough money keep my apartment. I need a roof over my head. I barely even eat because I don't have the money."

"Yes, I understand. Which, is why I hate to do this to you. But, if we don't start receiving some kind of payment soon, I will be forced to take you to court. You signed a contract that no matter what, you were to pay your fees. You understood that." He scolded her.

Darya groaned, "I was more well off two years ago."

"You were bitter and in love."

She became silent. If there was one thing she despised about lawyers, it was all the personal information they needed to know in order to file a suit with. It was bad enough, all the humiliation; but she didn't need to be reminded of any of it. It had been a stupid thing that she had done and from the very beginning she knew he judged her. It had been a year since she heard from Bran and she had honestly hoped he had forgotten her number.

"Are you still using, Darya?"

They knew _way _too much. Rubbing her finger across her nose, she diverted the subject, "I'll start the payments up again, okay, Bran?"

"Fine."

He hung up. No goodbye or anything. He was just as fed up with her as she was with him. In an extreme moment of frustration, Darya forced herself to not throw the phone across the room. That would only make things worse. Rather, she tossed it across her couch and held her head between her knees. When did her life start royally going to shit?

* * *

It had been time for work. Darya knew she would have to pick up more shifts in order to start paying her attorney fees once again. It really couldn't have come at a worse time. She had been hoping to heal her hand a little more, but she didn't have the time. Her boss had been happy to hear she was returning since he didn't like the other night baker that much. She would just work slower and probably have to stay there longer.

It was just her luck. She sighed. She felt exhausted. In the short amount of time she had known the Joker, she had been injured twice by him. Had not been able to work because of him. It may have been a bit strange to care about such things as cakes more than her own safety, but when you lived out on your own and relied on no one, there was no time to care about safety.

It seemed like her life would be a constant state of shit. Darya had heard plenty of people talk about _positivity. _Had watched plenty of programs where professionals spoke about the importance of _happy _thoughts. Perhaps being high all the time wasn't the way to change her karma, but if the universe wasn't going to throw any serenity towards her than she would make her own world.

Hopping off the bus, Darya was forced to come face to face with a truly horrifying scene. Mouth agape, she sprinted forward. There was a large crowd surrounding the bakery she worked at, which at the moment was engulfed with angry flames. Firefighters rushed to the scene and tried to stop the fire, but it seemed to grow every second.

Holding her hand over her mouth, she looked around in horror. It was then that she discovered there was an ambulance. And victims on gurneys. Running over, she noticed two of her female coworkers. A doctor was pumping oxygen through her mouth, as Darya asked, "What happened!?"

The doctor turned towards the blonde, while explaining, "They were trapped in the bakery when it caught flame. They were breathing in the smoke, the only way they survived was because a pedestrian threw a trash can through the window."

Darya couldn't believe it. She looked down at her coworkers in shock. For the most part they looked alright, one of the girls had a small burn mark on her cheek but from the outside they looked like they would be okay. The doctors worked vigorously in order to make sure they were okay, before sending them into the ambulance. What the hell had happened? The fire was massive, what could have caused it? Holding her head, she felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. What was going on?

"Darya! What the hell happened!"

Turning around, she saw her boss running towards her. He looked like he aged a hundred years. For a middle aged man who normally looked so put together, he looked incredibly disheveled. Gripping her hair, she panicked, "I-I don't know! I just got here! It was like this!"

"Oh my God, my bakery! What am I going to do!?" He practically fell to his knees and cried out.

Darya had no idea.

* * *

The bakery was gone. By the time the firefighters had killed the flame, it had burned the establishment virtually to the ground. It was heart wrenching for the boss, who had put everything into the bakery. Even more heart wrenching for her. The man had no money to compensate his workers. She hadn't a clue when he'd rebuild the establishment, if he ever did. Everyone who worked there was screwed and out on their own.

Darya trudged through the Uptown streets with a cigarette in her hand. She was numb. Completely frozen. What had just happened? No, no. That couldn't have just happened. The bakery. It was gone. All her income, gone. Her apartment would probably be gone. The possibility of paying her lawyer off; gone. Her sanity; completely gone.

Pulling in harshly, Darya growled as she blew out a billow of smoke. Just great. It was really just her luck that her only source of income was gone. Shaking her head, she stopped cold and looked around. Looked at all the high rise buildings. Looked at all the fancy gift shops around her. People in Uptown lived like kings, while she would probably be on the street soon.

She felt angry. Angry that she had dedicated so much of her time at the bakery. To making others happy, while she suffered. Why should they have it all, while she had nothing? Darya felt infuriated. What the hell was she going to do? There was really nothing to do, she groaned while pulling on her cigarette. The economy was bullshit, there was no way she was going to be able to find another job.

"You, ah, you don't look so good, Darya."

She recognized that voice. She would recognize it anywhere. Squeezing onto the cigarette, Darya turned around to come face to face with the Joker. He looked positively elated. His gloved hands were hooked together behind his back, as he gleefully skipped forward, "And what are you, ah, doing jus-t _roaming _around? Don't you have work?"

Nostrils flaring up, Darya spat, "It got burned down." She had had it with being scared. Now, she was just pissed off.

A glint of devious splendor shined within his eyes, as the Joker cooed, "Oh, _I _know..."

"You know?" Darya's nostrils flared open and her eyebrows furrowed forward, "What the fuck do you mean that _you know_?"

Giggling like a little school girl, the clown neared the younger woman while grinning, "Well, a little _birdie _told me your hand needed stitches. Just thought I'd, ah, help you out."

Eyes wide, Darya pointed her finger towards him and felt herself become wild, "_You? _You? You burned down the bakery! That...that was my only source of income! How could you!?"

"Uh, uh, uh, Darya," The Joker's voice dropped and his lips tightened, as his eyes darkened. He neared her, while grabbing her chin with his gloved hand, "_Tha-t _is no way to talk to me."

But, she didn't care about the pain he was inflicting on her. She was too upset. Too angry, "Do you _know _what you have done? I...I won't be able to find another job. I'll be kicked out of my apartment! I won't be able to pay any bill."

"Oh, Darya, all this _talk _about money. Money, money, money. Is that all you care about?" Leaning forward, he raised his eyebrows and preached, "Can't take money when you go."

"And until then, I need it to survive!"

The Joker shook his head, while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knife. Touching the tip upon her cheek, he cooed, "What, ah, _what _happened to you that makes you _so _concerned with money? I cut your hand and you stayed in the bakery," Tucking the blade under her chin, he tilted her head up and asked, "_Why _are you so concerned with, ah, everything else, but your life?"

Darya's lips tightened, as she attempted to still her breathing. The last thing she wanted was to be injured in the face. Closing her eyes, she breathed, "I'm just another person down on her luck in Gotham. The city is full of them."

"Ugh, no you're not. I know, there's something beneath," His gloved hand reached up and firmly took a hold of her chin, "Are you angry that you won't be able to pay your bills or, ah, angry that you won't be able to afford your, ahem, _medication."_

Trying to pull herself out of his grip, she defended, "I'm not a junkie."

"Oh, Darya, _stop _lying to yourself."

Darya's eyes went wide as she locked gazes with him. She was on edge. She didn't want to be. The day had seemed to have gone from bad to worse and all she wanted to do was go home and sleep. To forget that she had to pay her lawyer's fees. To forget that the bakery she worked to had just burned down. To forget that the Joker had an obsession with her.

"So," The Joker slowly toyed with her face, moving it back and forth, "_How _was, ah, your day?"

"Are you really trying to make small talk?"

"Have you always been this...on edge?" The Joker snickered, "You didn't seem that way when we, ah, first met."

Darya frowned while explaining, "I didn't know you were like a cat that likes to continuously scratch at a mouse...but never kill it."

An amused smile slowly curved on his lips, devious in nature. She tried not to show it, but she shuddered on the inside. No matter how annoyed she was becoming with him, she knew he was a man who was completely off his rocker. The smallest thing could force him to press that blade a little further.

"Oh, yes. And I, ah, I like scratching you," He nodded with a grin, "I'm going to _love _decorating your body."

Pressing her lips together, she sucked in a breath as the Joker then pushed her body into the dark depths of a nearby ally way. They had basically been talking out in the open. How could no one have seen what was happening? Why would he need her to be out of sight now? Perhaps he'd stop toying with her and finally off her.

The scarred man smirked, while running the tip of his tongue along the bottom of his teeth, "I didn't know you'd be..._so _much _funnn_ when I picked you out of that bus. You know, ah, I could have killed you."

"I'm starting to wish you would have." Darya murmured bitterly.

The Joker's cackle always sent shudders down her spine. How he could laugh in the face of something so morbid was beyond her. She pressed her back completely against the wall, as he leaned in, "Oh, no, no, no. I, ah, I won't kill you. Not now. There's, ah, there's still _so _much to discover," His Glasgow smile stretched out, as he licked the sides of his lips, "So much underneath. I _will _find out."

Darya frowned, as she looked up at him. Her heart was stopping. She couldn't say a word. Breathing in, she found something to say, "Why should you know all my secrets when _no one _knows the truth about you?"

As if not skipping a beat, he laughed even harder. Nothing deterred him from his main objective. He really did see the funny side in life, "The truth? You want to know the truth?" Giving a low and dark chuckle, he smirked, "I'm whatever you think I am."

"I think you're crazy."

"No more than you are," The Joker laughed while finally letting her go and taking a step back, "I am embrace the lies, Darya. I embrace...the _chaos. _You, ah, you don't though. You keep all these _lies _bottled up. All these..._secrets. _It's why you love-" His thumb then tilted up her nose and he added, "Your blow."

"You don't know me."

"Oh, yes, I do," He let out a low chuckle, before adding, "I'm not going to kill you, Darya, you're, ah, you're already dead."


	5. Chapter 5

TC Stark: Hello, hello! Alright, kiddies. I want to say that this chapter is sort of a precursor to the next one. I was hesitant about putting this out so fast. I was going to save this information to more towards the end. But, then I completely reworked the story and thought that revealing this secret would work better with the theme of the story and would all come together to an ending I have really never done before. So, I'm excited. I hope you all are too! SamAnne-C- I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging! I do love cliffhangers, I know they're mean. But, stick with me and I promise you'll love it in the end! Okay, everyone enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Darya and my ideas!

Chapter Five

Sometimes, life was a big cliché. In movies and even books, they're scrutinized. Criticized for the overused plot and the overused characters. But, the truth was that sometimes life could be a huge cliché. One big cliché. No one could help the events that plagued their lives, especially when they had captured the eyes of the Clowned Prince of Gotham.

Darya felt like a cliché. She buried her face in her arms, at a local bar and shook her head at the whole situation. She should have been laughing. If were a movie or a television show, she would have been laughing at how pathetic the main character was. She was high, at a bar. Drinking herself further into a stupor, after her job had just been burnt to the ground. She really was the picture perfect example of trite.

The stitches had been taken out of her hand. That was good. It had been a week since she had seen the Joker and that was good. But, she hadn't found a job. Hadn't even looked for one. Bran had been calling and she had stopped answering him. It most likely wouldn't be much longer until she was out on the streets. Who else would hire her? Would they not see her for who she was?

If she even knew who she even was anymore. Who cared. The Oxycontin she had taken not too long ago was kicking in and feeling quite nice along with her second Jack and Coke. Whenever something tragic occurred, they were allowed some time to grieve. Well, the way she figured it she was just taking some time to mourn the loss of her sanity.

Her boss had given her no compensation. After all the hard nights of labor. After all the hard work. Night after night she went in to bake those damn cakes. She had little to no social life; well to be more specific none. She had developed a horrible sleeping routine and her cocaine intake had risen from having to work so many consecutive night shifts.

Darya felt angry. Her boss knew how badly she needed the money. Knew why she accepted working six, sometimes seven; nights a week. And yet he didn't offer any of his workers any compensation. Nothing. It wasn't their fault that the bakery had gone up in flames. And they had to be punished because of it? It wasn't fair at all.

Her head started to hurt. Her calm mood going right out the window. She was becoming increasingly furious. How dare her boss just throw her out on the street? How could he do that to her? It had been so hard to find the job at the bakery in the first place. The economy was horrible. Even worse with the Joker on the loose. Many businesses were even shutting down in fear of being involved in some sort of chaos and losing money. She was screwed.

Clenching her fists, Darya pushed off of the bar counter and lazily saluted the bartender. Sticking her hands in her pockets, she kept her head low and walked out of the bar. The cold air instantly pricked against her cheeks, waking her up and somehow sobering her up a little. Her world was still spinning, but she felt a little more grounded. She couldn't allow herself to buy into the nonsense that the Joker spewed.

With a sigh, Darya reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of her cigarettes. While placing one in between her lips, she shook her head. She really needed to pull herself together. Getting intoxicated really wasn't going to make the situation better. She needed to remind herself that her anger was coming from a combination of drugs and alcohol.

"Hey, you got a light?"

Turning around, Darya saw a typical run of the mill stoner walking towards her. She blew out a puff of smoke, while eying him up and down suspiciously. She never wanted to wear her addiction on her sleeve the way others did. She never wanted people to look at her and automatically know what she did. That was her own personal way of copping and no one else needed to know about it. She hated that the Joker had been able to pick up so quickly.

After deciding that he looked trustworthy, the blonde nodded while tucking her hand into her pocket. It was when her head was bowed that the man lashed out at her. Having just come from the bar, she was a little off balance. So, it didn't take much for the stoner to knock her off her feet. Her cigarette went flying. Her pack was already half empty and she really didn't want to lose one.

Her gaze snapped up and her eyes stared at him incredulously. She watched as he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at her, "Empty your pockets."

"Believe me, ain't much in 'em." Darya slurred, while propping up on her elbows.

The man darted his eyes around nervously; his body bouncing up and down slightly. Tightening his grip on the pistol, he demanded, "I don't give a shit. Give me what you have."

"Just my fucking luck." The blonde murmured bitterly, while digging into her pockets. While she wasn't in the right position to be robbed, she really didn't have much of a choice. She wasn't one to tempt a stoner with a gun.

"Hurry up!" He shouted, as she struggled.

Darya narrowed her eyes, "Hey, I'm fucked up. Coordination isn't really coming that easily to me."

"Yea, well it better."

The stoner was becoming very impatient and even more paranoid. They weren't too far away from the bar and although it was a pretty run down area, no druggie wanted to be caught by the cops. Or worse; Batman. But, the only things Darya kept in her pockets were keys and her cell phone. Too bad for the stoner that she had just spent all her money at the bar.

Knowing she was taking too long, Darya prepared for the stoner to pull the trigger. He certainly looked like he was going to. That was until a short fire of bullets found a new home deep within the burglar's chest. She gasped as blood sprayed from his chest and splattered onto her clothes. With her world still spinning, she gawked and looked down in disgust.

As the stoner's dead body fell, she looked up and saw the Joker with a M76 in his hands. She raised an eyebrow, as he shook his head at her, "Tsk, tsk. Oh, _Daryyya, _didn't anyone tell you it's not, ah, _safe_ for a woman to be alone at a bar?"

Struggling to stand, Darya grunted, "Leave me alone."

"That's not very nice to say to the man who, ah, just _saved _you."

"Yea, yea," She rolled her eyes while standing, "I'm sure you did it with the _best _intentions. I gotta go."

Licking his scars, the Joker observed, "Hm, you're, ah, _drunk _aren't you? Oh, no, no, no. That, ah, that won't work at all."

Darya raised her eyebrow, before flipping his gun over and suddenly swinging the butt straight into her cheek. Instantly, her body fell down. Unconscious. Running his tongue along the sides of his mouth, he shook his head while looking down at his watch. As if on cue, a white van pulled up and three of his clowned goons jumped out. Snapping his fingers, he pointed down to the younger woman before they instantly followed orders and picked her up.

* * *

Her face was killing her. It throbbed intensely, as if her very heart was trapped within her cheek. There would be no sleeping with that kind of pain. The stabbing sensation instantly woke Darya up. What the hell had happened? She was close to sober, but the pain in her face left her pretty disoriented. It was hard to tell where she was.

Groaning, Darya rolled her head back and blinked her eyes several times. Giving her eyes some time to focus, she finally was able to take a look around. After observing her surroundings, she realized that she was...home? She was in her house. On her couch. Staring up at the same ceiling she had always stared at. Looking at the same shitty television she always watched. How could she have been home?

"Good, you're, ah, awake."

The Joker's unmistakable voice pierced Darya's ear, making her wince in pain. The stinging in her cheek surging through her entire body. Holding the hurt area, she whipped her head around to see the clown sitting quite casually in her swivel chair. He looked so arrogant. A large smile on his smeared face. His long legs stretched all the way out and his fingers tapped against the arms of her chair.

Holding onto the couch, she looked around just to make sure she was in her own apartment. The Joker was in her apartment. The Joker knew where her apartment was. Perhaps she was thinking a little more clearly, but suddenly her heart began to beat and she became nervous at the fact that _the _Joker was in her apartment. In her small, closed off apartment.

Trying to steady her nerves, Darya began to sit up, all the while keeping her eyes locked on him. He didn't move. He just kept sitting there. That smile never leaving his lips. With her hands gripped onto the couch, she asked in a steady voice, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you just seemed a little," Running his tongue alongside the inside of his mouth, the Joker grinned, "Too _drunk _to be outside. I, ah, took you home. Nice and safe."

"You can leave now."

Closing his lips, the scarred man smiled as a chuckled rumbled through his chest, "Oh, no, no, no. I, ah, I'm not going anywhere. You and I have a _lot _to, ah, talk about."

Her head was killing her. As her brain began to throb, Darya winced and demanded, "What do you want? I'm not in the mood for this! Tell me what you want or _leave!_"

It was then that the Joker slowly began to stand. He became a much more intimidating figure in that light. His shoulders hunched over and his forehead creased; his dark eyes bearing into the very depths of her soul. As if willing for some forgotten person to emerge. For something she had buried deep within for a long time.

Darya stared, as he loomed towards her. He was so close to her body. So close that she could smell was cigarettes and gasoline. He always smelt of explosions. Always smelt of death and destruction. It was a constant reminder of how deadly it was to even be in his presence. It reminded her that the Joker was no man to toy with.

Tilting his chin up and turning his head, the Joker warned, "Remember, _Darya, _you don't make the rules."

Tightening her grip on the couch, she took in a large gulp and almost whispered, "Why...are you here?"

And as soon as his dark demeanor came, it went. He let out a loud laugh, one that sprayed small drops of spit that spattered against her face. Wincing back, she pulled in her lips and squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head, as his laughter died down. When she felt it was safe to open her eyes, she did so and looked up at him.

He had already walked over to the table which had several of her belongings scattered all over it. But, she had never seen the manilla folder on it before. Raising an eyebrow, she watched as he picked up the folder and plopped back down on the chair. Opening it, he skimmed through a few pages while smirking, "I, ah, I knew there was something..._special_ about you. I knew if I stuck around, I'd find out what you were hiding."

Darya was even more confused, as suddenly he took out a picture and showed it to her, "This is you, isn't it?"

She gasped, while looking at the picture. The Joker may have been sitting a few feet away from her, but she could see exactly who it was. The girl looked different, but she knew it was her. She could never forget who she used to be. Could never forget the fresh faced, smiling girl who had just started her sophomore year of college. Who looked so healthy and happy, with her shoulder length blonde hair.

Seeing her surprise and anguish, the Joker laughed and took a look at the girl in the photo, "I, ah, gotta admit, I like your hair now more than back then. Why, um, the drastic change?"

"I needed a change," Darya shortly replied, "Where'd you get that?"

"Don't worry. I, ah, have my ways," He then looked at it again and focused on the picture. Smirking, he asked, "Is that an Arkham Asylum badge?"

She could feel her heart stop. It practically paralyzed her, feeling at a loss of words. Her mouth hung open, as her eyes darted around. She somehow needed him to get out of the apartment. Somehow needed a way for him not to talk anymore. She would not allow him to unravel her. Her life was already in so much shit, she didn't need him to bring up the past.

Furrowing her eyebrows together, her nostrils began to flare open as she demanded, "Get out."

"I think, ah, you're forgetting the rules."

"You have no authority," Darya dared herself to speak braver than she felt, "This is _my _apartment. Get out of _my _apartment!"

Running the tip of his tongue along her teeth, the Joker's face fell. There wasn't much that wiped that cackle off his face. There was no amusement and Darya soon felt herself regretting her bold words. Even more so when he slowly and menacingly stood from the chair once again. His eyes spelled death and they were locked on her.

She saw it. Saw him taking out his switchblade. Saw the way he held it in his hand. So delicately. So gently. As if it truly were his favorite toy. As if he wanted no harm to come to it. It was his most trusted ally. The only thing that had never let him down. The only object that had ever brought him close to true joy.

Darya curled herself up into the couch, before the Joker yanked at the front of the hair; the only part long enough for him to grab. She cried as he pulled her up and threw her up against the wall. There was murder in his eyes. He wasn't toying around anymore. She had questioned him too much and he wouldn't stand her attitude anymore.

Heavily breathing through his nose, he held her firmly against the wall, ""Now, ah, I think I've been a little too..._forgiving_ of your little outbursts. Now, I know you're, ah, feeling irritated," He then tapped his knife against her cheek, "_But, _we're playing by my rules. Understand?"

There it was. Her heart was beating uncontrollably again. Clenching her fists tightly, she felt her eyes begin to water. Fighting through, she gritted her teeth, "Do it already."

Raising an eyebrow, the Joker curiously mused, "Hm?"

"Just do it. Kill me already. Just _stop _the torture," Darya pleaded, "It's unbearable as it is, so just do it already."

The Joker let out a small laugh while tracing the tip of his knife along her cheek. She felt the sharp point prick against her skin. Light enough to not scratch her, but close enough to let her know how easily it would have been for him to press in. Darya wasn't the suicidal type. She did drugs to escape reality, not fully run away from it. But, having to look over her shoulder constantly, to make sure the clown wasn't around; was too much for her. She was tired of living in a constant state of paranoia. Life really wasn't going her way.

Trailing the knife along her jawline, he smiled and cooed, "Oh, no. The, ah, _torture _has only just _begun_."

"What do you want?" Darya pleaded.

"Good girl," The Joker's lips slowly turned into a sadistic smile, as his gloved hand reached up and almost gently started caressing the bruised cheek, "Why don't you stop, ah, _lying _and tell me why you were employed at Arkham Asylum and why you're in dept to a lawyer, for a sexual harassment charge, that never made it to trial; against Dr. Jonathan Crane."


	6. Chapter 6

TC Stark: I felt so bad about the cliffhanger in the last chapter that I wrote this one lol This one is rated M for Mature. I do hope you all like it. I hope I keep the Joker in character and I hope you all like Darya's tale. Again, I was going to postpone this reveal, but I thought it would make a good transition into the theme I'm building. Miss Savvy – I hope it has! Lol Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Darya and my ideas.

Chapter Six

Darya's breath hitched in the back of her throat, as the blonde's voice trembled, "I just needed the money, so I made something up."

The Joker laughed. He had to give the girl some credit, for trying to cover her ass. Gently hooking his thumb under her chin, he tilted her gaze up as he licked his lips and leaned forward. She had never seen his body so steady. So firm. So focused. With a knowing glint in his eyes, he threatened with a smile, "Don't lie to me, _doll-_face."

It was so quiet between them. Darya knew she had been caught. Just like she had, when she had cheated off a fellow classmate's exam in second grade. Only, the principal hadn't held a knife to her throat. And her teacher hadn't been a scarred man with severe mental problems. But, either way she had been caught.

Nervously running the palm of her hands down the wall, she gulped and looked at him begging. Her eyes were wide and she pleaded not to relive her own mistake. He already knew, before even knowing the story that it had been brought upon by something she had did. That she had felt, for the lack of better words; stupid because of the past events. She wanted to bury the events and he just wouldn't allow that.

The Joker laughed, while adjusting his footing, "Oh, tha-t, ah, that's not gonna _work _on me."

Of course it wouldn't. She should have known better. Gulping, her voice shook as she started, "I graduated last year. You asked me what I studied in...I have my degree in Criminology."

"Oh, how _interesting."_

Frowning, she continued, "I was a sophomore and had been passing by the internship board. I saw that...Dr. Crane was looking for an assistant. If I worked for him for one semester, I would receive four credits. I thought it would be cool...to intern at Arkham Asylum," Sighing, Darya took in a deep breath and continued, "He was so uninterested at first. We barely spoke. I went there, did my work...and went home. One morning I was smoking a cigarette outside and he came up behind me. He asked...if I had ever done any drugs. At that time...I only drank and occasionally smoked pot."

"He took me to the basement that day...he said as a part of my internship...I was required to help him with his experiments," Gasping at the lack of breath she was suddenly experiencing, Darya angrily shook her head, "He strapped me to a chair...and injected me with his toxin. I found out that day _who _Dr. Crane really was."

"The Scarecrow." The Joker finished her thought, both amused and interested in what the doctor had done to the girl.

Snorting, Darya nodded, "Yea...the Scarecrow."

The Clown Prince couldn't help his laugh, while shaking his head and licking his lips, "So, you, ah, you went to the courts and, um, just _what _did you tell them?"

"I didn't tell them anything," She glared, "I went back. I found that after a while...I became addicted to his toxin. His poison. I...I enjoyed it. The hallucinations were so powerful. They opened my eyes and I felt everything. I felt so dull when I wasn't high. I began taking anything, just to replicate the feeling. But, nothing compared. I looked forward to work, just to be part of his experiments. After a while, I physically couldn't function without it."

The angry exterior was breaking and Darya felt herself admitting, ashamed, "Until one day he said the experiments were useless, if I enjoyed them. He wanted to stop. But, I couldn't let him. I couldn't let him stop. I wasn't ready to quit. Not yet. So...I...I..." Cursing under her breath, she revealed, "I gave him oral...in his office...so he'd continue giving me the toxin. And...it just turned into that. I would go to work and have sex just to get high."

The Joker squinted his eyes slightly, before opening his mouth. He closed it again and pondered for a moment. Choosing a different question, he asked, "So, ah, just wha-t did you sue for?"

"I told him I loved him," Darya let out an exasperated sigh, "I was so stupid. I...I don't know if I did or not...my mind...I'm not sure if it has ever recovered. But, one day, after we had...he told me we couldn't do it anymore. I...I just didn't know what to say. I couldn't live without...I didn't want it to stop. I didn't want to be thrown away like some used toy. So, I told him I loved him..." Snorting quietly, she shook her head, "He took me by the throat and told me to quit...I was just bitter, I wanted to make a point. I knew the case wouldn't make it to court."

"And ye-t, _you're _still paying lawyer fees."

Scoffing, she almost laughed, "Yea...I'm still paying for the stupidest decision of my life."

After taking a moment to observe her body language, he cracked a smile and observed, "You're just _mad _that you, ah, sold your body for some...cheap kicks."

Darya hated hearing the truth. She especially hated hearing it from someone like the Joker. Turning away, she mumbled, "We've all been victims of our guilty pleasures."

"Yes," The Joker licked the sides of his lips while looming over her, "But, ah, none of us have been so _stupid."_

Stupid. It had been what she had been feeling for years. She had known the case wasn't going to make it to trial. She had no idea why she had even placed the charges. She felt even more stupid, when Dr. Crane showed up at her door and let her know how futile her attempts were. That her entire personal life would be brought up on trial and she would have to describe how she offered her body for drugs. His smug smirk would forever burn in her mind. And she had been paying for it ever since.

It was always entertaining to watch someone as they were on the verge of breaking. It was why the Joker loved what he did. He loved seeing the look in his victims' eyes. Loved seeing them as they realized that everything was falling apart. The persona that Darya had been using for the past three years was crumbling and she knew that.

Looking down, he noticed how much her chest had paled. How much the blood had been washed away from her. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was heavy. While looking in her eyes, he saw the despair. The begging. Not to him. To her own mind. To stop her from remembering how foolish she had been. He loved the bargainers.

Gleefully smiling, the Joker let go of his grip of her and moved his body away. Not that she noticed. Her focus was so far gone. The Clowned Prince may have been right in front of her, but all she was thinking about was Jonathan Crane. All she could remember was allowing him to touch her, just so she could get high.

The Joker had left the room. But, it didn't matter. Darya felt so used. So stupid. Slouching down to the ground, she hooked her arms around her knees and cried. How could she have allowed herself to stoop so low? How could she have had so little of self-esteem that she would just use her body the way she had? She was such a disgrace to every woman.

All she wanted to do was not think. Not feel. All she wanted to do was slip away and forget everything that had happened. She knew how to do it too, knew how to erase her mind so she could rest easy. Groaning, she stood up and headed towards her drawer. Headed towards the bottle of Oxycontin. Towards her new friends.

* * *

By the time the Joker had returned to Darya's apartment, she was nowhere to be found. Of course he had come back. He wanted to see the downfall. Wanted to see her destructive behavior. It was going to be like a car accident that no one could peel their eyes away from. She was his prey and he wasn't going to just walk away from her.

While scoping the living room, his ears picked up a faint sound. Darting his gaze over to the bathroom, he noticed the faint yellow light peeking out from under the crack of the door. It was running water that he was hearing. Licking his lips, the Joker was perplexed. A casual shower after reliving her most dreaded memory? It was a new one for the books.

Not caring much for personal decency, the Joker trudged forward and turned the door handle without even knocking. Not that Darya had even noticed. When he stepped in, he saw the younger woman lying stark naked in the bathtub. The back of her head rested against the ledge, as her knees were pressed up against her chest. Eyes closed, as the water from the shower head sprayed against her skin.

A naked woman didn't faze the Joker. He was less concerned by her lack of clothes and more concerned as to what she was doing. Was she sleeping? Or trying to escape him? Oh, no, no he wouldn't allow that. Cracking his neck, he stepped forward until he was completely looming over her. He did take a moment to take a look at the sentence he had carved into her skin. Just below her nicely shaped, small pieced breasts. _Gotham is Mine – Mr. J. _It gave him all sorts of warm feelings to know she would bear those words forever.

Crouching down, he raised an eyebrow and licked his lips, "Ah, _hello_?"

Squeezing her already closed eyes, Darya left out a soft groan, "Sh...don't talk so loud."

The scarred man raised an eyebrow, while taking a look around the bathroom. Looking atop the sink, he reached up and grabbed her bottle of Oxycontin. Hm, figured. Shaking his head, the Joker asked, "Oh, Darya, ah, just _how _many did you take?"

"I don't know..." Her voice was soft, "I'm trying to stay awake."

"Doing a bad job." He stated matter-of-factually.

"Shut up."

The Joker's laugh was absolutely piercing. Her eyes were still closed, but she whined and turned her head away from him. It seemed to echo all throughout the bathroom and shook her to her very soul. Her world seemed to be so numb and yet, in that world his voice was able to shake her to the very core. He needed to go away.

And then Darya found herself flying forward. It was a reaction, from the Joker slamming his fist against her cheek. Her eyes flew open and she let out a loud gasp, while looking over at him. She hadn't a chance to say anything, as he hit her again. Powerfully. She was sure many people felt that as frightening as the Joker was that he wasn't physically strong. But, she now saw how wrong they were. She felt like she was being hit by a freight truck.

As the blonde tried to hold her wounded area, the Joker reached forward and yanked at her arm. She tripped out of the bathtub, as he grabbed the other arm and shook her violently. His fingertips were digging into her skin, as Darya begged, "Let me go! Let me go!" She flayed around.

But, the Joker ignored her. He threw her around like a rag doll. He yanked the door open and pushed her out. Darya's mind was spinning and she lost her footing. Crashing down onto the floor, she propped up on her elbows and slurred, "That's _not _going to keep me awake..." Plopping down onto the floor, she groaned, "I'm done for..."

"Oh, no, no, I'm not letting you off the hook _that _easily."

"Your right...I was so stupid...So stupid," Darya shook her head, "I...I just liked the feel..." With her head moving side to side, she rolled over to her side and began to trace the fibers of her rug, "I know...it was _so _stupid..." She then laughed, "I actually thought he cared about me..."

The Joker raised an eyebrow, as he circled around her. Watched as she played with the rug below her. He may have hit her several times, but she was still diving in and out of consciousness. What a mess. If he hadn't been so interested, he may have left her there to die. But, that would be the easy way out and he wasn't that kind of man.

Crouching down, the Joker hooked his hand under her neck and pulled her up. Darya's eyes attempted to focus, while murmuring, "You're right...everything you say..is right," She let out a small laugh, "You're so right...My boss...my boss _screwed _me."

"Hmm, yes he did."

Darya's eyebrows furrowed gently, while reaching up and touching her hand upon his scars. While running her thumb along the Glasgow smile, she growled, "_You _scarred me."

The Joker let out a guttural chuckle, "You, ah, you make a _lovely _canvas."

"Oh, yes...you _love _the broken ones," Darya swayed, frowning, "Your name...will always be on me."

The scarred man tilted his head, while looking at Darya curiously. One could never understand the mind of a junkie. Drugs could make anyone _crazy. _And they certainly seemed to be doing a good job at affecting her mind. To anyone she was just a lost drug addict that he should have just left. But, if she could make it through this night, he knew how beautifully she'd act.

Propping up on her knees, Darya suddenly dove into the Joker's face. Quite sloppily. He stayed still for a moment, confused. He supposed in her drug filled haze that she found him attractive. Found his philosophies attractive. Felt that because he was in her apartment that he really cared whether she lived or died. She could believe whatever lie she wanted to, he was just a man of curiosity.

But, he supposed it would be an interesting way to keep her awake. Darya felt completely stupid for allowing Dr. Crane to use her body and now, she was going to let him use hers. Though, she may have wanted to take back that need. But, as she continued to kiss him, he smirked. She had signed her own fate and there was no going back.

Grabbing her by the throat, he threw her off to the side. The Joker cackled, while standing up and marching towards her. Darya arched her back in pain, while the clown placed his foot on either side of her stomach. Looming over her, he laughed and looked down at her. Her eyes were widened and she looked up at him, wondering if she had gone a little too far.

No, the Joker was having a grand time. Enjoying the fact that she had given herself so willingly to him. Some things really never changed. Laughing, he crouched down onto his knees, while grasping onto her neck. Her eyes were wide, as her hands flew up to grab at her fingers. Slapping her harshly, he commanded, "Uh, ah, ah. _Stay _still."

He was shaking his finger in front of her playfully. Toying with her. Darya's heart fluttered, as her fingers slowly left the Joker's hand. In her warped state of mind, all she could do was concentrate on the Joker's eyes. His dark, gleeful eyes. Was it even possible for someone to look so menacing and so...happy at the same time?

Running the tip of his tongue along the inside of his scars, he grinned while running his fingers along the mound of her breast. Her nipple was pierced and that was just delightful. His little junkie liked pain more than she admitted. With a grin, he took one end of the barbel and gave it a tug. Even through her drug induced haze, she let out a painful gasp. Her legs moved involuntarily and her face jerked away.

Another slap. Darya breathed in a deep gasp, as his hand moved down to the middle of her thighs. Her breath was hitched, as the tips of his fingers tapped against her opening. The blonde whimpered quietly, as he commanded, "Open your legs."

In the state she was in, she was willing to do whatever he told her to do. As long as it was going to keep her awake. It had been honestly stupid to down as many pills as she had. But, she had wanted her thoughts to stop. She wanted to stop thinking about Jonathan and the case she had brought up against him. It had haunted enough of her life, she just wanted it to stop.

And just as Darya felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, the Joker lifted up her right leg and plunged right in. She was dry and he hadn't wet his member. With his hand gripped tightly onto her neck, she let out a scream. Arching her back, she attempted to open her legs more and relieve the pain, but it was to no avail.

Letting out a dark laugh, the Joker readjusted his grip and grabbed right underneath her jaw, "You can scream all you want, Darya, I, ah, _like _it."

His hips violently pushed into Darya's tight void. They were short and strong bucks. They weren't concerned with her pain. Weren't concerned with her being comfortable. She had kissed him and offered herself to him. He was going to take the offer and they were going to play by his rules. He was the one in charge.

The grip on her thigh was tight and she knew her light skin was going to bruise. As his long staff thrust deeper and deeper into her, she felt her entire world spinning upside down. Having sex had fogged her mind even more. She felt her entire body become light and all she could concentrate on was the violent rocking of her body.

Luckily, the Joker's hand moved from her neck to her shoulder. Outstretched and firm. His shoulders hunched over. His head hanging low and his greasy hair almost touched her skin. Her gripped her leg and pushed it up. Much further than she was even aware. Who knew she could bend like that. She was almost amazed by it.

The continuous thrusts were slowly becoming comforting to her. Darya's mouth hung open and her eyes fluttered shut, as her fists finally unclenched. She was finally able to let out a breath of fresh air and her her vagina muscles finally relaxed. Her void was finally able to allow herself to enjoy the feel of his staff inside her.

And she finally was able to feel the tip of him hit up against her cervix. Her body was tingling, beginning to feel again. She was finally able to feel him inside of her. Relaxing, Darya laid back and let out a moan. Her other leg that wasn't being held, hooked onto his waist. It pulled him closer, wanting him deeper inside of her.

The Joker laughed at that. Laughed at her body slowly relaxing into position. She was enjoying it. Her body was beginning to come back to reality and she felt everything that was going on. Felt every thrust. Felt every moment of her walls being stretched. Felt every time her penis hit against her cervix. Felt every pulse of his staff inside her. And he felt every time her vagina squeezed against him. And he heard every sound of arousal that left her pretty little lips.

The fact that Darya was opening herself to him was thrilling. How utterly foolish she was to make the same mistake twice. Darya really had no control of herself. No will power to stop becoming high. Everything she did was to achieve a high. She was constantly searching for a fix and would never feel satisfied.

His nails dug even deeper into her skin, as his thrusts picked up pace. Darya let out a pained squeal, as the thrusts became harder. More violent. Her back arched and her body twisted around with nowhere to go. She was forced to stay still, as the Joker continued his onslaught of her most private area. He wasn't done, not yet.

"I...I...no more...no more!" Darya begged, as her fingers started clawing the floor once again.

"Oh, no, no. We're not finished until, ah, I say so."

The Joker let out a guttural grunt, as he continued his attack. He was sweating. His grease paint was slowly sliding downwards, a few drops landing on her chest. His own dark eyes were closed and his teeth were grinding against each other. She was in pain. He saw that. She had been enjoying it and he couldn't have that.

After a few more hard and rapid thrusts, the Joker felt a build up coming on strong. His eyes snapped open and he growled, "Look at me."

Biting her lower lip so hard that she was sure it was bleeding, Darya opened her eyes and stared deeply into his own. He gave her a grin. It was weird. Something that confused her, as he continued to thrust into her. It was only when a tear fell from her eyes that he felt it was all too much. Groaning, he gave one final buck before ripping out of her vagina and spilling his seed against her thigh.

Her vagina burned. It was sore. Darya whimpered, as the Joker regained his breath. His chest was heaving and his mouth hung open. Cracking his own jaw, he shook his head back and forth before finally sitting up on his knees. She felt a relief, once his hand finally released his grip on her shoulder. Cracking her shoulder back, she plopped her head against the ground and let out a sigh.

The Joker let out a low chuckle, while standing, "Uh, _thanks_."

Darya turned her head, as the Joker walked away. She frowned and turned her body, reaching out for him. Her endorphins were kicking in and she was desperate for some physical contact. But, that wasn't going to happen. Not with the Joker. What had she just done? Suddenly feeling more clear-headed than before, she let out a groan and buried her head in her hands.


	7. Chapter 7

TC Stark: Eek, sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I suppose I have been showing my other stories a little more love. Forgive me! I also wanted to say, I know this story seems a little scattered. But, it's supposed to be. Darya is a junkie and wouldn't be thinking right, so I wanted the story in the beginning to follow that. Though, I am happy you all liked the sex scene and the Joker's mannerisms! To the Guest – Thank you for taking the time out to review. I will take a lot of your advice and apply it. But, I should say that this story does take place after The Dark Knight, so Harvey is already dead and her bakery is already burned down. I also don't see the Joker caring if someone saved his life. But, thank you so much for your advice, it really helped! Tisiphone – Thank you! PoisonousAngel – Yes I loved the canvas line as well. Okay it's three am everyone, love you guys!

Disclaimer: I only own Darya and my ideas.

Chapter Seven

Throbbing. Uncontrollable, painful throbbing. That was what woke Darya up. She lunged forward, before practically falling head first into her hands. She was on her bed. How the hell did she get to her bed? It didn't matter at that moment. Not when her brain swelled so badly that she felt it pressing hard against her skull. So hard she feared what would happen if the headache didn't subside.

She was also severely dehydrated. A result, no doubt; from her intense _partying _the night before. Alcohol and drugs; it wasn't the first time she mixed. But, perhaps the first time she had partook in such hard usage. With a groan, she wondered how the hell had she even survived the night before? Surely, no one should have outlasted that kind of personal, physical abuse.

Hunching over the side of her bed, she held onto her naked shoulders and bowed her head down. Wait, she was naked? Why? What had happened the night before? Darya's eyes opened and looked down at her body, noticing bruises scattered around her skin. Bruises? They looked like...finger imprints. Marks...being naked...what had she done?

"Uh, no-t feeling so _ho-t, _are ya, dollface?"

That voice. That oh so familiar voice. Who could ever mistake the voice of the man with the Glasgow smile? The man who terrorized the city? The man who she couldn't seem to get away from. The man who...for some reason...made sense. No. No one could ever mistake the voice of Gotham's most feared man. The Joker.

Turning with a groan, Darya saw the Joker in her apartment. He had been there the night before. Had made her reveal her secret. Her private relationship with the Dr. Jonathan Crane. How could she have been so stupid to let him know something like that? Something that made her seem so vulnerable to the man who loved playing games?

The Joker didn't look like himself. At least not the way everyone knew him. There was no makeup. No clothes except a pair of boxers. He sat on a chair looking oddly...like everyone else. Darya gazed her eyes over his body, noticing how nicely sculpted it was. Lean with light muscles. Long legs and toned arms. There was various scars that decorated his body, but they didn't take away from his looks. She noticed his face most of all. He was a pale man and she saw he had very dark circles under his eyes. She wasn't sure if it was due to years of applying greasepaint or if it was simply a medical condition.

And without the makeup, she could see the scars surrounding his mouth even more. They were skin colored, but the scars were large and the scar tissue puffed up noticeably. Still...somehow...they added to his features. He was the Joker regardless of what he painted on his face and somehow he was handsome even with his deformities.

Raising an eyebrow, she looked down at her naked body and asked, "Did we have sex?"

At that question, he let out a maniacal laugh. One that was so loud that it echoed throughout her whole apartment. Highly amused, he readjusted himself in his seat and grinned, "Oh, uh, yea we did. You, ah, you _really _surprised me. That's hard to do. So, ah, bravo."

Snorting, Darya looked around her room until her eyes landed on a pack of cigarettes on the desk, near the Joker. With tight lips, she got up and headed towards the table, "_So _happy I performed the way you wanted."

"Oh, you did," The Joker snickered, as Darya placed a cigarette in between her lips and lit it. Running his tongue along the scars inside his cheeks, he remarked, "Oh, uh, don't bother suing. I don't have any money."

He was mocking her. Just the way she knew he would. Becoming enraged, she lashed out. Probably wasn't the best thing to do to the Joker, but she was hungover and irritated. How dare he tease her about the shame she had carried around for the past three years. The very reason for her addiction. It angered her and she just couldn't contain herself.

Of course, he just laughed. He caught her wrist and yanked her forward, causing her to lose her footing and fall down against the floor. She winced and he cackled. Narrowing her eyes, she spat, "Fuck you."

"Hm, I think you took care of that last night," He winked, while standing up, "Uh, stay there. I'm gonna just, ah, wash off."

Wash off? She wasn't aware he even took part in personal hygiene. Growling, she watched as he tuned around and left the room. How the hell was she even in the same situation that she was in not too many years ago? Darya groaned and grabbed at the little hair that she had, frustrated with herself. How could she have betrayed herself like that again?

* * *

_What a cliché situation. Darya couldn't help, but think how typical she was. How predictable she was, to be sleeping with the man she worked for. Not only were they having sex, but she felt herself having an extreme pull towards the Dr. Jonathan Crane. Perhaps she was even beginning to really like him. The sex was great. Or, perhaps it was all the drugs._

_The drugs. Yes, the wonderful drugs. Darya had really developed a taste for Crane's toxin. It was poison. Toxin that was meant to install fear within anyone it infected. And yet, she found herself wanting more. Found herself wanting him to infect her with his toxin. It was such a wonderful feeling. One that lifted her up and made her feel more alive than she had in years._

_Darya only thought about the high she would experience soon, as Jonathan pulled out of her and spilled his seed against her leg. She hadn't had an orgasm, but had enjoyed it none the less. It was crazy. She had taken the internship for college credits and because it was a field she had interest in. Now, she was working at Arkham simply for the drugs._

_As usual, Jonathan pulled back and adjusted himself. He was always so put together. Darya ran her fingers through her blonde hair, while pushing off of the desk he had bent her over. After pulling her underwear back and adjusting her skirt, she turned around and saw that the doctor was calmly placing his glasses back on._

_She felt practically giddy. She felt her hands jitter and her heart flutter, as she waited for him to turn around. Waited for him to inject her with his poison, so she could feel free again. Lately, the only time she felt comfortable in her body was when she was high off of Crane's toxin. She had even tried a few drugs since then, to replicate the feeling. But, there was nothing else like what he had to offer._

_When Jonathan turned around, without any needle; Darya felt confused. She looked at him perplexed, as he calmly stated, "We can no longer do this, Ms. Orlov."_

_Furrowing her eyebrows, she demanded, "Why not?"_

"_Because, Darya, you enjoy my toxin just a little too much. How am I supposed to get proper results, if you're practically begging for it? That is not the point. I want to study fear, not a junkie getting high."_

_Darya was at a loss for words. A junkie? No, she couldn't be a junkie. They were lowlifes who slept in alleyways and gave blow-jobs to shoot up heroin. Then again, she was allowing the doctor to fuck her, in order to be injected by his own homemade toxin. The comparison was not lost, but she didn't want to think about that._

_Shaking her head, she felt herself start to panic. She wasn't sure what to do. Jonathan was always the kind of man that once his mind was made up, there was no going back. His eyes were always so cold and his face was unmoving. No emotions. Not caring about what he had just said. He'd be losing a floozy to screw, but he wasn't a man heavily influenced by sex._

_Not even thinking, she blurted out, "I love you."_

_I love you? Three very stupid words. A phrase she wasn't sure she even believed in. But, she needed to say something. Something that would make him stop. Maybe he felt the same way? No, impossible. Laughable really. Perhaps he would feel pity for her and continue to supply her. Surely, he could make a case out of those who actually wanted to feel fear. Who were addicted to it. She would be the perfect test subject._

_Rather than laughing, Jonathan became enraged. His face twisted and his mouth snarled. With murder in his eyes, he lunged forward and grabbed her by her neck. Darya gasped as she was slammed roughly against the wall. Grunting, her body froze as his leaned in to her face, "Listen, Darya, it's been fun, but this has to end. Now, tomorrow you're going to call Dr. Arkham and tell him this job isn't for you. Tell him, I'm too demanding. And quit."_

_Ending the sentence shortly, he quickly pulled away and flung her away as if she were used garbage. Darya couldn't believe how low she felt. How used. How stupid. She desperately tried to compose herself, as Jonathan dug into one of his drawers and pulled out a capped syringe. Despite just being manhandled, her eyes glimmered happily at the chance of getting high._

"_Don't inject all of it in one sitting."_

* * *

Darya groaned at the flashback. Her most embarrassing moment of her life. In that moment she really felt like a junkie in an alleyway. And after that day she had really allowed her life to go downhill. She may have had an apartment, but she might as well have been on the street begging for drugs. Any money that didn't go to rent, went to her drug habit.

And now, her drug habit caused her to have sex with the Joker. Slowly, it was coming back to her. Kissing him. _She _had kissed him. What was wrong with her that she would actually want to kiss the Joker? Touching her lips, she realized that his lips weren't the way she had thought they'd be. While the kiss had turned rough, as well as the sex; the lips weren't. They were...soft...

_What _was wrong with her? Darya groaned and grabbed the sides of her head, as the shower was shut off. Her body still ached from the night before. It had to be quite possibly the roughest sex she had ever experienced. He had kept her awake. Kept her from overdosing and dying in her sleep. But, she certainly hadn't expected to be kept alive the way it had happened.

"Hm, not moving from the floor?"

Her head continued to pound. Darya groaned, while moving her head over and seeing the Joker walk out of the bathroom. Frowning, the blonde slowly began to sit up. Every bone popped. She was aching everything. Holding her head in her hands, she let out a sigh, "You didn't take very long."

"Just, ah, enough to wash away last night's fun," He cackled, "Besides, you don't have any hot water."

Great. Darya snorted, while shaking her head. Without a job, no hot water would only be the first in what would be taken away from her. All she could do was laugh and light up a cigarette. Once upon a time she had been far from pathetic. She had goals for the future, took care of herself, and made the right decisions. No drugs, no heavy alcohol, and no regrettable nights with men.

While letting the cigarette smoke seep down her throat, she sighed and willed herself up. Everything hurt, but she really didn't feel like being naked for any longer. She already felt exposed. Even the Joker had pulled his boxers back on. She needed to at least pull on a pair of shorts that she had lying around and a sports bra.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Darya ran her fingers through the front of her hair and asked, "Why are you still here?"

A bold question. Most people wouldn't dare question the Joker's motives, but she wasn't in the mood to play along. She had been beaten by him and scarred by him. She was at the point in her life that even being killed by him, wouldn't faze her. At that point, it would almost be a relief from the shit life she had been living.

Suddenly Darya felt the cigarette being pulled from her fingertips. Raising an eyebrow, she looked up to see the Joker placing it in his mouth and taking in a pull. Licking the sides of his lips, he hunched down and spoke firmly, "Ugh, listen, Darya, you're, ah, you're going to clean yourself up. You're becoming a little pathetic. I almost feel..._bad. _Like, maybe I should just y'know," At that he took his other hand and ran his finger along his neck before making a gurgling sound, "And, ah, I don't want to do tha-t _just _ye-t."

"Thanks," Darya scoffed, "Why? What's my recovery to you?"

There was a sinister smile on his face as he took another pull of the cigarette. A Cheshire grin and a glimmer in his eyes. Waving his finger, he explained, "Oh, you. You, ah, you don't even know what's inside of you. Tell me, Darya, when are you going to stop living for a high?"

"Isn't that what everyone does? Don't you do what you do for the high?" She narrowed her eyes, "Hurting others gets you off."

"Hmm...that's a, ah, _bold _observation. Don't you know, I have no plan?"

"You trying whatever you're trying with me is a plan." Darya stated, as he finished her cigarette. Grumbling under her breath, she folded her arms and crossed her legs.

The Joker let out a low chuckle, while crouching down, "Just, ah, _think _about it. Everything you do, is for someone else. You work to pay someone else. So, ah, someone else can enjoy your money. So some, ah, lawyer could pay for his nice cars. You let yourself get fucked so you could get high," Pausing, he thought about his words before explaining with a series of hand movements, "Last night, _kissing _me was probably, ah, the firs-_t _time you've actually took initiative. And, ah, ha...ha...you had fun. Imagine...how..._fun _life would be if you just...let go."

Staring at him, Darya felt her brain hurt even more. Shaking her head, she asked, "What the hell are you trying to say? None of that made sense."

Cackling, he gave her a wink, "It would. If you just let out," He spoke the last three words in a sing-song matter, before continuing, "You, ah, have _all _this anger. Why don't you just...let it go? Right _all _the wrongs."

"The only person who's done be wrong is me."

"_Then _you better start fixing yourself," Slowly standing, the Joker pointed out, "Just how many people are gonna feed off _your _misery."

Darya raised an eyebrow. Still confused. Hadn't he been finding joy from her misery? Holding her head, she ignored him as he pulled on his clothes. Everything he said was jumbled in her head. And somehow, they all made sense. She found anger in the fact that she was in the situation she was. She may have been stupid for trying a case against Jonathan Crane, but how could Bran continue asking for payments? She had seen the few articles in the case file, there was no work done. And yet, he continued his cushy life, while she struggled.

The Joker cleared his throat. Darya lifted her head and looked up at the scarred man. Theatrically, he advised, "You, ah, change your mind and want to play game, you give me a call."

He soon left after that. Call him. As if he even had a phone number. Darya laughed at the ludicrous situation. She may have crossed the line by having sex with the Joker. Had he really expected her to somehow join his little operation? Like she could ever be something more than just a junkie? What use would she ever be?

She couldn't think that way. What was wrong with her that she was even considering doing what he did? Yes, she knew how greedy her lawyer was. How greedy her former boss was. But, life would soon get to them. It didn't have to be her. Yes, and while she waited for them to get what they deserved, she would be living on the streets.

Darya felt as if her mind was split in two. Like she couldn't properly think. Now, she really knew that drugs were effecting her state of mind. Sleeping with the Joker and now having those kind of thoughts, she must have been crazy. Groaning, she slowly stood up. Every bone in her body aching. Hot water may have been thrown out of the window, but she needed something to wake her up. Something to screw her head on right.

She wouldn't let another man affect the way she thought.


End file.
